


Patience Runs Dry

by withaflashoflove



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-19
Updated: 2016-12-19
Packaged: 2018-09-09 20:37:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8911111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/withaflashoflove/pseuds/withaflashoflove
Summary: Based on a tumblr prompt request: Barry is oblivious to Iris's come-ons and she gets desperate...





	

They’d been out on three dates already and all he’d done so far was kiss her. Well…that and let his hands rest on her butt (though she kinda helped him get there).

Iris wasn’t complaining…not much at least. Or maybe she was, internally. They’d been having fun together, getting to know the new _romantic_ side of their relationship. And it was good! It was good to watch him linger on her, even enjoyable. To watch the way his eyes opened wide when he saw her wearing a form-fitting dress with a bold shade of lipstick that he always messed up anyway. It was good to take things slow…to let the tension build up for a while. And she most definitely wasn’t needy.

She wasn’t in a rush. 

Sure she’d been trying to drop a few hints here and there. Like on their first date when he walked her home to her apartment and she _subtly_ suggested that he stay the night. But for some reason, he got all flustered and turned a bright pink which caused her to quickly rescind the question, telling him that she had work the next day and it’d probably be better for the both of them to get some sleep. 

He had laughed bashfully at that, pulled her in for a hug, but she wasn’t completely satisfied, so she left a warm kiss on the side of his neck, almost nibbled at the skin, before pulling him away to give him a look that read _maybe not tonight. But next time._

Or so she thought.

Because _next time_ came about a week later and he seemed more interested to talk about anything in the world rather than kiss her, let alone do anything else. So she listened, because it was habit and he was a bit oblivious sometimes and no matter how much he frustrated her, he was still adorable, especially when he got all excited about science, especially when his ears perked up and he smiled so big that it lit up the entire restaurant, more so than the dozens of lights they had in it.

Iris liked watching him talk, regardless of other things that were preoccupying her mind. So instead, she played footsie with him under the table, while giving her her undivided attention. She slyly let her foot glide up his leg, enough to just graze his calf… 

But he turned the same shade of pink he’d been the previous time she attempted this flirting thing, so she let her foot drop gracelessly back to the ground, ducking her head with embarrassment along the way.

It was still a fun date.

He _almost_ came inside that night. Then Flash duties happened. That was his excuse. Though she almost didn’t believe it and wondered if he’d asked Cisco to help him devise an exit plan.

On the third date, Iris was damn sure that they’d get it on. Because this time, _she_ planned the date. She took him out to the beach late at night on a Friday evening, with a bottle of wine and a blanket. And she wore a loose t-shirt (one that belonged to him) and volleyball shorts that she knew were showing off her body in all the right places.

So when the moon became the city’s most luminous source of light and when the beach had cleared of people and the breeze was gently rustling the water, Iris leaned in _really_ close to him, let him get a whiff of the special perfume she’d worn for the occasion, let him put his hand on her hip, a little too close to dipping down lower, let one of her arms wrap around his waist, its fingers toying with the hem of his shirt, while the other hand cupped his face and brought his lips to hers…

And she was feeling a little _too_ flirty that night, the wine making her bolder in contrast to the shy he always made her feel. So she let her tongue lick his lips open, sucked just hard enough on his bottom lip to elicit a _gasp_ from him, ran her fingers through his hair while her legs found their way on his lap.

She was proud of herself. Proud of the way her plan had worked, the way he was kissing her back, bruising her lips with the force of his, the way his hands were under her shirt and were finding their way to her bra clasp… 

But then she got a call from Wally which starkly interrupted their progress. And Barry wouldn’t look at her for the rest of the night.

(She later interrogated Wally and found out he and Cisco were spying on them. She got them both back.)

So given their previous luck with dates, she didn’t expect much going into the night. At most, she figured he’d kiss her like he normally did and he’d hold her hand for the entirety of their walk while whispering sweet musings into her ear.

She was in the process of convincing herself that it would be okay. That they’d take it to that level when they were both ready, when they were both on the same page. And really, she was making her peace with it. 

She spoke too soon.

Because tonight, he shows up at her door ready to pick her up for date number 4 at 5 minutes past 8 and she sees the way his button down shirt hugged his body in all the right ways, can’t help but lean into his touch when he hugs her, feels his large hands on her waist, gripping her closer to him, looks at his smile and wonders to herself what else he can do with his mouth… 

Scratch that. She’s needy.

And she wants him. Bad. Because no matter how often she tried convincing herself that _slow_ _was_ _good_ and that _they’ve always gone slow so it was a sign_ and that _this_ _way, there’d be more excitement when it happened,_ she wasn’t buying any of it right now. Not with the way he smells and feels and looks. Not when she’s staring at his pretty green eyes and his pretty red lips. Not when she can feel his biceps engulfing her in a hug.

She decides to stall them for a bit. 

“Bear,” she says, using the most innocent tone she could put on, “mind coming inside for a while? I’m not done yet.” 

“Sure!” he smiles at her, stepping into the living room and closing the door behind him. Iris has a plan. A plan that requires less clothes.

“Great! You can sit! I’ll be out soon.” 

She watches Barry take a seat on the couch as she makes her way inside her room, already planning on walking out without a dress. Because really, he was all sorts of cute, but she wants more than cute right now, is too tired of cute.

She strips to her bra and panties, throwing the dress haphazardly into her closet thinking ahead in case they somehow made it inside there at some point during the night. Quickly after, she searches her drawer for one of his old sweatshirts and pulls it on, the fabric reaching her thighs. Iris ruffles her hair a bit, wipes off her lipstick and takes off all her jewelry before walking back out to the living room. 

He’s waiting for her, she can tell. By the way he taps nervously on his thigh. So she makes her way over to the couch to stand behind him before saying,“all set.”

Barry’s head turns to look at her and Iris can just about hear his heartbeat out of his chest the second he takes her in, the second his eyes trail down to her legs before quickly coming back up to focus on her lips, then again to make contact with hers. And she knows he’s about to stand and back away, but she doesn’t let him, immediately crashing her lips to his, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and keeping him in place. 

He tenses against her lips, his breathing fast and erratic, but she stays at it, keeps roaming her hands along his chest, keeps gliding her tongue along his lips and soon enough, she feels his own hands swing around to embrace her before he pulls her over the couch and into his lap. 

She lets out a laugh, pulling away from him. “Hi,” she smiles coyly.

“You don’t have pants on,” he replies, eyes dazed and that’s when she notices his hands on her thighs and feels _something_ underneath her.

“Mhm. I don’t.”

“We have reservations…”

His voice trails off when her hand fiddles with his zipper and she knows he’s swallowed whatever he was going to say next.

“We’ll eat later,” she whispers, leaning in to kiss his neck.

And in one move, Barry lays her down on the couch, his body quick to cover hers. She sees the way his eyes have changed colors, the way they’ve gotten darker and wider and she can’t help the feeling of success that sweeps over her. 

“You’ll eat later,” he says, his hands working their way underneath her sweatshirt. “I’m eating now.”


End file.
